Suspicion
by lizardmm
Summary: Spencer's doing her best to not fall apart, balancing her schoolwork, extracurriculars, and the fact that someone is tormenting her and her friends. It's hard enough keeping the people she loves safe from A without beautiful strangers from Ohio barging into her life. Fabrastings.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just a little story that's been bouncing around in my brain for a while

* * *

_Good luck on your first day of school! I'll be watching! Kisses! - A_

Spencer chewed on the knuckle of her pointer finger on her left hand, something she hadn't done since she was little. Her parents had scared her into believing she'd grow up with grotesquely shaped teeth if she continued the bad habit. She'd been too young back then to decide if misshapen teeth was something she wanted, but they'd painted it in such negative terms that she'd had no choice but to believe it to be true.

"Is this seat taken?"

Spencer looked up from the screen on her phone. Her eyes met warm, inviting hazel irises.

"Uh, no."

She stood up from the lab stool so quickly that it nearly toppled over. The legs screeched against the old linoleum of the science lab floor. She could feel other students' eyes on her and her cheeks burned at the attention.

The girl was beautiful: sunny blonde hair that curled at the ends just before it touched the tops of her shoulders, a perfect upturned nose, and high, elegant cheekbones. She wore a sundress and light cardigan that went three-quarters down her arms. Her pale knees peeked out from the bottom hem of her dress. Even without the wheelchair she looked fragile, like a dancer – long limbed, willowy, and vulnerable.

Spencer felt an odd, unexpected urge like she needed to protect this girl.

"Should I move this chair someplace else?" Spencer felt helpless, unsure of what to do. The lab table was slightly elevated and if the girl wheeled into the space where the lab chair was currently positioned, the elevated table would be too high for her chair. But it wasn't like the girl could sit on the rotating stool, could she?

The blonde gave her a rueful smile, almost as if she could read Spencer's thoughts. "I'm not going to be using it."

Spencer shoved the spare chair out of the way to make room for the new student. She moved her notebook and textbook more on her side of the long lab table even though it wasn't really on the other girl's side.

"Thanks." The girl maneuvered her chair so she was positioned parallel to Spencer. The table was a few inches too tall and it made Spencer uncomfortable from her lofted chair.

"I'm Quinn, by the way."

"Spencer. Nice to meet you."

Despite growing up in the shadow of a country club, Spencer had never been good at small talk. She flipped her notebook open and wrote the date on the first page. When she didn't know what else to do, she traced the tip of her pen back over the date and wrote it again.

"What year are you?"

"Junior," Spencer answered, not looking away from the lines of the notebook. She kept writing over the date, again and again, with her blue-ink pen. "You?"

"Senior."

Spencer finally looked away from her notebook after realizing it would be the polite thing to do. She set down her pen with some purposefulness to keep from wearing a hole through the page. "You're new, right?"

The girl – _Quinn_ – Spencer remembered, nodded. "I just moved here from Ohio a few weeks ago."

Spencer racked her brain for facts she knew about the state, but came up empty. "Do you like Science?" The question fell stupidly from her mouth.

The girl shrugged. "Not really. English is more my thing. I like books."

Spencer nodded as if Quinn had just said something revealing or profound. She didn't know how to continue the conversation, but thankfully their teacher stepped into the room at that moment and started class so she didn't have to.

* * *

They sat at their usual lunch table outside in the courtyard, heads bent together and speaking in hushed tones. Gossip about celebrities and significant others had been replaced by all things Alison and A.

"Hey guys!" Aria's voice rose above the whispered murmurs of their current conversation.

Spencer, Hanna, and Emily snapped to attention.

Aria jerked her head in the direction of a blonde girl in a wheelchair positioned beside her. "This is Quinn. We have AP English together. She's new, so I invited her to sit with us at lunch."

"Hanna, move your tray," Emily immediately instructed.

The seated girls shuffled their belongings and their bodies to make room for the two newcomers. Lunch trays were collaborated and phones were put away. With their technological connection to A tucked away in their respective purses and school bags, it provided a momentary reprieve from their lives, a semblance of normality to a group of friends who were anything but.

Quinn maneuvered to the end of the table where the built-in seating wouldn't get in her way of her chair. "Hi, Spencer," she greeted.

Spencer's lips twitched. "Hey."

"You guys know each other?" Aria asked, looking between the two girls curiously.

"We had AP Biology together this morning," Quinn supplied.

"Wow. AP Biology _and _English? Watch out, Spencer," Hanna chuckled as she absently played with a French fry. "Looks like you've got some competition."

"I'm a senior," Quinn gently corrected. "Spencer's class standing is safe from me."

"Your parents made you move your senior year of high school?" Aria wondered aloud. "That's rough."

Quinn pulled a packed lunch out of the backpack that hung on the back of her wheelchair. "I'm staying with my aunt for the school year. My parents thought my hometown was getting a little…small for me, I guess."

"What happened to you?" Hanna asked with her usual subtlety. "Why can't you walk?"

"Hanna!" both Aria and Emily exclaimed, horrified and embarrassed by their friend's lack of tact.

"You don't just _ask_ that," Emily hissed, dark eyes flashing.

"No, it's fine. Usually people just stare at me and whisper about me behind my back." Quinn seemed to appraise the other blonde girl with a new look of appreciation. "It takes the really brave ones to actually ask me that question."

"See?" Hanna said, tilting her nose in the air. "She doesn't mind."

"So what happened?" Spencer pressed. She didn't want to appear too eager, but her curiosity was winning the battle over propriety.

"I got in a car accident. A truck blew through a stop sign and I got t-boned."

"That's horrible," Emily sympathized.

Quinn shrugged elegantly beneath the thin material of her cashmere cardigan. "I was texting. I probably would have still gotten hit, but if I hadn't been so focused on my phone, maybe it would have turned out differently." She barked out a humorless laugh. "I'm a walking PSA – well, _rolling_, is more like it."

Spencer looked down at her half-eaten lunch, now having lost her appetite. She gathered her tray and her messenger bag. "I've got to stop by the library before next period," she said, standing up. "I'll see you guys after school."

* * *

Spencer left the library with heavy books a new burden in her school bag. She needed to start making note-cards for the SATs soon and finishing entrance exams for college essays. It was only the first day of school, but she was already starting to experience that familiar feeling of being overwhelmed.

She turned a corner and stopped to refill her water bottle at one of the filling stations on campus. She wiped at her brow and felt the perspiration that had accumulated from her short walk from the library to the hallway. The weather was still warm for early fall and for that Spencer was thankful. Pennsylvania winters were too long and too harsh to take this Indian Summer for granted.

She turned down the hallway in the direction of her next class: Physics. She would have preferred a less science-focused schedule this first semester, but she needed these classes on her high school transcripts for her college applications this year instead of waiting for her senior year.

She walked into the classroom a few minutes before the bell and looked in the direction of where she usually sat. Quinn's wheelchair was parked at one of the long lab tables with her notebook and textbook unpacked in front of her.

Spencer sucked in a breath as she crossed the room to the table. She couldn't very well avoid the other girl in such a small classroom. Quinn looked up from reviewing her notebook when Spencer sat down at the vacant chair beside her. The tall stool squeaked against the linoleum.

"Hello again, Spencer."

Spencer tugged at the collar of her button-up shirt. Even on warm days sometimes the heat was on in the school building, but she didn't think the trickle of sweat she felt going down the center of her lower back was the result of that.

"Hi. I didn't realize we'd be in this class together, too."

"Don't worry," Quinn smiled mildly. "I'm not stalking you."

The bell rang, sounding the beginning of class and the end of their conversation.

Despite it being the first day of school, their AP Physics teacher was hitting the material fast and hard. They went over the course syllabus briefly before the instructor launched into a lecture.

Spencer was half-focused on whatever the teacher was talking about and diligently copied the information down in her notebook. The rest of her attention was spent observing the girl who sat beside her. Quinn didn't appear to be equally curious about the woman seated beside her, however. Instead, she looked focused and intense, scribbling down everything the teacher said.

Rosewood, Pennsylvania didn't see too many transplants, but in the years following Alison's death, new students to Rosewood High had started to become commonplace. Spencer couldn't imagine what kind of connection this new girl, Quinn, might have had to Alison, and she hated that her brain even went there. The first day of school was supposed to be filled with excitement over new outfits and breaking open new packages of school supplies – not scoping out the student body to see what new threats had appeared over the summer.

Why couldn't she see a transfer student without immediately becoming suspect? _Oh, right— because you and your best friends have been tortured for the past year by an anonymous threat. _That_ might have something to do with it, Spencer._

Spencer frowned when she thought about how much her life had changed since Alison's disappearance – none of it for the better.

The bell rang at the end of the period, shaking Spencer from her thoughts. Students around them began collecting their things, packing them up into their bags. Quinn too already had her notebook in her bag and was just putting her textbook away.

"Do you mind if I take a peek at your notes?" Spencer blurted out. "He started to talk pretty fast at the end of class, and I just want to make sure I got it all."

"Sure thing." Quinn twisted at the waist and pulled a purple notebook from the backpack slung over the back of her chair. She didn't look annoyed that she'd just put her books away. "Just get it back to me whenever."

"Oh, I could just copy them here, if you don't have to run off." She choked over the final words. Why had she said that? _Quinn couldn't run_. "I just mean, I don't know your schedule, but I don't have any place to go."

Quinn gave her a smile she'd come to recognize. It was accommodating, almost reassuring, or at least to make Spencer feel more comfortable about her word choice. The smile killed Spencer. Quinn shouldn't feel sorry for her; she was the one in the wheelchair, after all.

"My aunt is supposed to be picking me up. You can give me the notebook back tomorrow in class."

"Oh, um, yeah. I can do that."

Quinn left the classroom leaving Spencer behind, feeling like an idiot.

The classroom was entirely empty now and it made Spencer uncomfortable. As it was the end of the school day there wasn't another class using the room, but she didn't want to spend more time by herself than necessary. Again, she frowned. She shouldn't feel unsafe in her own school.

Spencer compared the careful, legible handwriting in Quinn's notebook with her own frazzled scribblings. She always felt so frantic while trying to take notes in class. She was amazed by the thoroughness and neatness of Quinn's notes.

She finished copying the parts of the notes she had missed and tucked her notebook and Quinn's back into her bag.

She hustled to the front of campus, hoping to catch Quinn before she took off for the day. The parking lot wasn't terribly large, but it still took her some time to scan for the familiar flash of blonde hair.

She suddenly felt a hand on her hip. "Ready to go?"

Spencer looked away from the parking lot and into pale blue eyes.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Spencer fumbled slightly with her keys before pushing open the door to her house with her shoulder. Summer was fading into fall, but the humidity was still oppressive, causing the wooden door jam to swell. She tossed her keys on a small wooden table in the front foyer and removed her shoes, setting them in a straight row with the rest of her footwear.

Toby followed closely behind and shut the front door. "I could plane that down for your parents," he offered when he too noticed how the door stuck.

"It'll be fine once this heat goes away," Spencer dismissed. She tossed her school bag on the living room couch and went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

Toby wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and kissed her on the lips. "I missed you all day today."

Spencer wrapped her arms around his cinched waist and smiled. "You too. I'm excited to spend some time together this weekend, just the two of us."

She went to kiss her boyfriend again, hoping for a longer, lingering kiss, but Toby wiggled out of her eager grasp.

"I need to brush my teeth," he laughed, holding his hand in front of his mouth. "I had coffee this afternoon and my mouth tastes gross."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

Toby didn't stick around to defend himself. "I'll be right back."

Spencer's eyes followed her boyfriend as he ran up the stairs, no doubt in the direction of her en suite bathroom. Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter with an incoming text message and her stomach tensed. Her phone had become a weapon of mass destruction.

_I just wanted to let you know that I won't be in class tomorrow after all. I have physical therapy._

Spencer's brow furrowed at the message. She didn't recognize the number or the out-of-state area code. _Who is this?_ she typed out.

The response was immediate. _The girl in the wheelchair._

_You could have just said Quinn_, Spencer replied.

Another message blipped back: _I didn't want you to mistake me for someone else. Who knows how many Quinn's you know?_

_I can honestly say you're the only one._ Spencer chewed on her lower lip as her fingers flew over the text messaging board. _How did you get my number?_

_Your friend Hanna. Sorry. I just didn't want you to freak out about getting my notebook back to me. You seem pretty intense._

Heavy steps echoed on the wooden staircase and Toby appeared in the kitchen shortly after.

"Who's that?" he asked around his floss.

Spencer shoved her phone in the back pocket of her pants. "Aria. She wanted to know if I had an extra copy of a book she needs for AP English." She didn't know why she felt the need to lie; telling falsehoods had become all too easy and too natural these days.

Toby frowned slightly. "Are you sure it wasn't from A, Spencer? It wouldn't be the first time you've tried to keep something like that from me."

Now it was Spencer's turn to be annoyed. "I only did that to protect you."

Toby brushed his sideways bangs out of his dark eyes. "And look how well that's turned out," he pointed out.

Spencer stuck out her bottom lip in a well-practiced pout. "I promise it wasn't from A. It was just about school."

At least that part wasn't a lie.

Toby leaned in and pressed his lips against Spencer's pouting mouth, and their conversation was forgotten for the moment.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**Friday**_

Spencer drove her SUV down a long, deserted, gravel driveway. Her navigation system had steered her out of the city of Rosewood and into a farming community adjacent to the city boundaries where it wasn't uncommon to share the road with an Amish horse and buggy.

She reached her destination and turned off the vehicle. A modest ranch-style house spread out in front of her, a far cry from the house where she lived with her parents. She checked the address she'd written down again, and confirming she was in the right spot, she got out of her car.

A woman with stern features and hair pulled back into a severe bun answered the door. She wore a long denim skirt and a white turtleneck. A large silver cross hung around her neck. "Yes?"

Spencer was startled by the woman's appearance. She didn't know why she'd expected Quinn herself to answer the door. "Oh, um, hello," she greeted, pulling herself together. "Is Quinn here?"

The woman's eyes narrowed and Spencer thought she saw the door close just a little. "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Spencer Hastings. I go to school with Quinn. She said I should stop by to drop off her Physics notes." She actually hadn't, but Spencer wasn't about to tell this woman that she was showing up unannounced and uninvited.

"Spencer." The way the woman said her name sounded like it left a sour taste in her mouth. "I'll never understand why parents give their daughters names meant for boys. Of course my own sister did the same thing when she allowed Lucy to start going by her middle name."

Spencer didn't know if she should defend her name or let it drop. "Who's Lucy?" she asked instead.

The woman nearly rolled her eyes. "Quinn. Lucy Quinn Fabray."

Spencer's features pinched. "Her real name is Lucy?"

"Yes. Why are you here again?"

Spencer fished the borrowed purple notebook out of her messenger bag. "I go to school with your niece?"

The woman, apparently Quinn's aunt, finally let her in.

Spencer resisted the urge to duck her head when she walked through the front door. The low popcorn ceilings were high enough that slouching was unnecessary, but the décor was disorienting; the house looked like it had been built in the 1970s and hadn't been updated since then. She felt her anxiety spike at all the religious paraphernalia. She'd never seen so many crosses outside of a church.

As she passed a formal dining room she saw one of those word paintings that were so popular, only instead of something warm and encouraging, a somber message from the Old Testament was scrawled across the wall.

_The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart._

"Third door on the right."

"Huh?" Spencer tore her eyes away from the Bible verse.

Quinn's aunt looked like she was rapidly losing patience. "Third door on the right. It's Lucy's bedroom. You came here for school notes, right?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Spencer mentally shook herself.

She walked down the corridor and passed two open doors – a bathroom and the laundry room. The third door was open as well.

Inside the small bedroom, she found Quinn reclined on a twin-sized mattress with an afghan covering her legs. Sunshine shown into the room, scattered by a white, lace drapery that resembled an oversized doily. The natural light bounced off of Quinn's hair, already the color of sunlight. It reminded Spencer of a key scene from one of her favorite movies – when Cary Grant finally tracks down Deborah Kerr after she failed to show up at the Empire State Building.

Spencer was struck by how peaceful and serene Quinn sat, reading her book. She looked so...so normal. Beautiful, but normal, Spencer decided on – like she might stand up at any moment.

Spencer rapped her fingers against the wooden doorframe.

Quinn's eyes lifted from the page. "Oh, hello." She closed her book.

Spencer righted herself. "Hi."

Quinn smiled mildly.

"What were you reading?"

Quinn absently touched the spine of the old-looking hardcover book. "_Swiss Family Robinson."_

It was unexpected. She admittedly knew next to nothing about the girl, and yet something like _Crime and Punishment_ or _Wuthering Heights_ seemed more appropriate.

Something in Spencer's face must have given her away.

"Don't you ever wish you were marooned on a tropical island sometimes?"

"As long as I have sunscreen."

Quinn folded her hands in her lap. Spencer's eyes were drawn to the movement, but she looked away. She could see the twin lumps of Quinn's kneecaps hidden beneath the blanket. She didn't want Quinn to think she was staring at her legs.

"So can I help you with something?"

"Oh, right." Spencer laughed at herself and shook her head. "You weren't at school today."

Quinn's hazel eyes narrowed in confusion. "I texted you that I wouldn't be there today; I had physical therapy."

"I know, but I wanted to bring you your notebook back," Spencer said. "I wrote down the notes you missed today. And I was wondering if I could take a look at your Biology notes, too. I kind of zoned out in class."

Quinn inspected Spencer's features. "You must really be serious about school if it couldn't wait the weekend."

Spencer felt uncomfortable again. "Yeah, I know," she grunted. "I just don't want to fall behind."

"My notebook should be in my backpack," Quinn said, gesturing to the bag hanging on the back of a desk chair that probably went unused beyond serving as a coat hanger. "I'd get it for you, but that would take a little longer."

Spencer's smile was tight. She couldn't help feeling uncomfortable every time Quinn made reference to her condition, even though she'd never been self-pitying about it. They were just facts.

"Did my aunt freak out when she answered the door?"

Spencer dug around in the bag, flipping between folders and textbooks and spiral notebooks until she found the notes she had been looking for. "She looked a little skeptical, but she was fine."

Quinn picked at the yarn in the afghan. "We don't get many visitors out here." She looked up with new curiosity in her eyes. "How did you even know where I lived?"

Spencer grimaced. "I called the high school pretending to be an admissions councilor at Penn U."

"Wow. You really are serious about school."

"I'm a legacy admit to Penn U – everyone in my family went – but I want to get accepted on my own merit, not the generosity of my parents to their alma mater."

"I'm going to Yale."

"Really?"

Quinn nodded. "Early admissions. I found out just before my dad sent me here. It was probably one of the reasons for the move, actually. He didn't want me to do something to make Yale change its mind about me."

Spencer sat down on the floor with Quinn's notes and pulled her own biology notebook out of her backpack. She flipped her notebook and Quinn's notebook open to the pages from that day's class. Her own half-earnest attempt to pay attention during the teacher's lecture glared back at her in blue pen. Quinn's handwriting was carefully evenly spaced letters and words. Unlike Spencer, her note-taking from the day had been thorough and focused. It was maddening how perfect even her notes were.

"You don't have to copy those right now," Quinn said. "You can just return them to me at school on Monday."

"No, this is fine." Spencer didn't want to admit that she wanted to spend more time with Quinn – not to Quinn and certainly not to herself. She was doing this for school, she told herself. She was doing this for A reconnaissance.

Spencer began transferring the information from Quinn's notebook to her own. A paragraph in, she hazarded a glance up at the bed. Quinn stared back at her, her position unmoved since Spencer's arrival, her book still closed on her lap. Spencer hastily looked away, bringing her eyes back to the pages of the notebook.

There was something regal and reserved about Quinn Fabray, yet sly and knowing. It made Spencer wonder what secrets this girl was hiding. She knew all too well that everyone had secrets.

"Thanks again for the notes." She said when she'd finished copy the information. She tucked her notebook back into her school bag.

"It's really no big deal," Quinn insisted. Her lips curled at the edges. "Besides, now you owe me one."

Spencer smiled back. "I guess I do." She slung her bag over one shoulder. "Is it okay if I just go out the front door? Or is your aunt going to freak out?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, you'll be fine. She's probably in her room praying or something," Quinn said, making a face.

Spencer shifted the weight of her backpack on her shoulder once more. "I'll see you Monday."

Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry I can't see you out. Getting into my chair is this whole big thing," she apologized. It almost surprised Spencer how sheepish and unsure Quinn now looked.

Spencer waved a hand. "No, no," she dismissed. "I'm the one who showed up without warning you."

"That's true," Quinn noted, tilting her mouth. "Hey, have you heard about this Fall Festival out on County Road W tomorrow?"

Spencer confirmed with a nod. "It's kind of like an early Halloween-Homecoming-Oktoberfest hybrid party the county puts on. They have pumpkin carving and hayrides and kids get their faces painted and all that. I used to go every year with my parents when I was younger."

"Would you want to go with me?" Quinn asked.

Spencer's heart fluttered in her chest. "Oh, I, um." She had no good reason to say no. It was still too early in the school year to have fallen behind in schoolwork and A had been relatively quiet. She knew that wouldn't last for long, however.

"It's just that Fall is my favorite season, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to get my chair through the terrain on my own and my aunt will be busy at a booth her church is hosting." Quinn tugged her lip between her top and lower rows of teeth. "And I really haven't met too many people, and now that I'm saying the words out loud, I realize it's probably a big inconvenience to ask you to drive all the way out here again."

Spencer couldn't ignore how her once fluttering heart now seemed to drop into her stomach. She forced a grin to her face. "No inconvenience at all. Besides, I owe you one, remember?" she assured the blonde. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks for the favorites and follows and reviews! Keep 'em coming :)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_**Saturday**_

Spencer's car bumped down the unpaved road. It was a foggy night and she leaned forward, close to the windshield, to make out the road signs ahead. The fall festival was an annual event held at a busy pumpkin patch. She didn't often drive out in farm county and the streets were unfamiliar.

"You know this is how scary movies start, right?" Quinn announced from the passenger side seat. "Two high school girls on an abandoned county highway take a wrong turn and get cannibalized by a family of inbred hillbillies."

"I can't say I watch too many scary movies." Spencer pulled the car into a makeshift parking lot in a harvested cornfield. Her real life was scary enough without watching those kinds of films. "I guess I don't see the point of getting scared on purpose."

"We'll have to have a movie marathon," Quinn suggested, smiling brightly. "I'll introduce you to all the classics: _Friday the 13__th__, Halloween, Night of the Living Dead, The Shining," _she ticked off. "And don't even get me started on Hitchcock films."

"Wow. You really_ are_ a fan," Spencer murmured as she parked the vehicle.

Quinn shrugged. "I just like movies. It's one activity that I didn't have to alter after the accident, kind of like books."

"I'll bring the popcorn," Spencer returned with a smile. She turned off the car. "Do you need help with anything?"

Not waiting for Quinn's reply, she hopped out of the vehicle and went to grab Quinn's chair from the back of her SUV. When she reached the front passenger side with the wheelchair, Quinn had the door open and her legs were swung out.

"Set the locks for me?" Quinn requested. "I'd hate to roll away."

Spencer did what she was asked and then stood awkwardly while she waited for Quinn to maneuver out of the car and into her chair. She'd been surprised to see Quinn in something other than a dress when she'd picked her up from her aunt's house. The blonde had retired her typical sundress and cardigan for jeans and a sweater that night.

"Anything else?"

She hated not knowing what to do. She didn't know the unique limitations and abilities of being without the use of legs and her ignorance brought a blush of shame to her cheeks.

Quinn maneuvered herself out of the car and into her wheelchair. "I've got this part. I'm usually pretty good getting in and out of cars. It's just getting into bed that gives me problems."

When Quinn had settled into her chair, she gave an experimental push, fingers curling around both wheels to see how easily she could maneuver on the uneven terrain. "I might need a little shove," she announced.

Spencer scrambled behind the chair and pushed. Scattered hay crunched under Spencer's boots. Pumpkins, or rather jack-o-lanterns, illuminated the park. Even though it was too early for Halloween, most of the little kids in the park were dressed in costumes and some adults were too. If there hadn't been so many families milling around, it might have been unsettling – the prime location for A to torment her.

"This is kind of amazing," Quinn voice rang out, pulling Spencer from darker thoughts. "Candied apples, apple cider, apple _donuts._"

Spencer shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her light fall jacket and appraised the crowds. She hadn't been to the fall festival in years. Her family was always so busy; they hardly did any of their old traditions anymore. "What do you want to do first?" she asked.

She warily eyeballed a sign for a haunted house. She knew it wouldn't be too scary because of the family atmosphere, but experience told her it was the exact kind of environment A or one of A's minions would likely be hiding in wait. She hoped Quinn wasn't a fan of haunted houses like she was of scary movies.

"Do you think we could carve a pumpkin?" Quinn asked hopefully. She ducked her head. "Or do you think that's it's just for kids?"

Relief washed over Spencer. She removed her hands from her jacket and tightened her fingers around the handles of Quinn's chair. "Oh, I'm positive there's a pumpkin in there just waiting for you."

A large banquet-style tent had been set up in a harvested field. Fold-up chairs and long tables had been set up with various pumpkins and decorating supplies on the tables. The ground was relatively flat like the rest of the festival grounds, but deep tilling ridges made Spencer's help necessary for Quinn's chair to navigate the uneven terrain.

Spencer parked Quinn's chair at a vacant table and sat in a seat beside her.

Quinn immediately grabbed a squat, round pumpkin and thin bristled paintbrush. Following the other girl's lead, Spencer chose a pumpkin, hers tall and skinny with a long, curved stem.

The two women were silent as each diligently set to the task of painting their respective pumpkins. Spencer chose a clown theme for hers, concentrating on a bright red nose and wide, curving mouth.

Spencer focused on her pumpkin, but couldn't help periodic glances at Quinn much like she did in the biology and physics classes they shared. The blonde's hazel eyes were trained on her own handiwork and the tip of her pink tongue peeked out from between equally pink lips in a look of concentration and determinedness. She was in her own world, oblivious to the pointed stares of others – mostly curious children who didn't know not to gawk.

"I love Halloween," Quinn breathed in reverence.

"I used to like it better when I was younger," Spencer answered truthfully. Lately, she'd dealt with enough ghosts to last a lifetime.

She heard her phone buzz in her purse. She'd turned off the ringer, but had left it on vibrate. She ignored the message for the moment and continued to paint.

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted/One need not be a house/The brain has corridors surpassing/Material place." Quinn's words were a quiet murmur as though she didn't realize she was speaking aloud.

"What's that?" Spencer asked.

"Emily Dickinson."

"You and Aria should hang out," Spencer remarked. "She loves stuff like that."

Quinn's hazel eyes remained focused on her pumpkin. "Maybe I like hanging out with _you_."

Spencer's lips twitched. "I didn't mean it like that," she quickly corrected. "I like hanging out with you, too." It wasn't a lie; she _was _having fun. Her phone jumped in her purse again.

Quinn's smile was slow and lazy. "You know, when you're not being competitive, you can be kind of sweet."

"Well that must be never," Spencer quipped with a wry smile. "Because I always win."

Spencer painted the finishing touches on her clownish pumpkin. She scrutinized the finished product with the same critical eye she used with everything she did. The blue eye shadow made the face look more melancholy than she'd intended.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Quinn rasped.

Spencer frowned at her pumpkin. She was talented at a number of things, but art was not one of them. "Mine's not very good," she qualified.

"It's not a contest, Spence," Quinn reassured her.

"Okay," came Spencer's reluctant affirmation. "On three."

The two counted down together. "One...two...three."

Spencer spun the still-wet face of her pumpkin in Quinn's direction. Quinn mirrored her actions.

While Spencer had gone for a whimsical theme, Quinn had stayed traditionally Halloween. But instead of a face, she'd gone for an intricate spider web that sprawled across one whole side of the pumpkin. The brushstrokes were impossibly straight, coming together to form a complicated geometric pattern.

"Wow," Spencer openly admired. "That's really cool."

Quinn laughed. "Thanks. Yours is terrifying."

"Hey! I didn't want to go for scary," she defended her art.

Quinn's smile was nearly as wide as the painted clown grin. "Then you succeeded."

Spencer's phone continued to jump and jerk on in her purse, buzzing with a number of new incoming messages.

"Wow. You're awfully popular." Quinn regarded the other girl with curious eyes.

Spencer dug her phone out of her bag, stomach sinking. She really should just stop having a phone altogether. It was the more direct way A could torment her, but it was also the most efficient way to get in contact with her friends if she or they needed help.

She skimmed through the messages, looking for anything unsettling. Every text questioned her whereabouts, but there were no pressing _S.O.S._ messages.

"Sorry," Spencer apologized, fingers already dancing over the text keyboard. "I should probably respond or they'll never leave me alone."

She typed out the words _I'm fine _before sending it as a mass text message to her friends and Toby. She'd mentioned earlier in the week that she and Toby should hang out that weekend, but they hadn't made any concrete plans that she was consciously ditching.

"We don't have to stay if you have someplace you'd rather be."

Spencer looked up from her phone screen. Quinn was chewing on her lower lip. "Huh?"

"It's okay if you have to go or something," Quinn repeated.

Spencer turned her phone to silent and shoved it back in her purse. "Everything is fine," she said with a reassuring smile. She slapped her hands on top of her thighs to shake off an unexpected guilt. "Where to next?"

The two girls spent another hour at the festival with Spencer guiding Quinn's wheelchair from one corner of the pumpkin patch to the other, stopping at craft booths to browse and looking at the jack-o-lantern display. Conversation was easy and light, and for a few moments, Spencer was able to forget that she and the people to whom she was closest were under constant surveillance from an anonymous threat.

When they'd eaten their share of Indian fry bread and caramel apples, Spencer drove Quinn back to her aunt's house just a few miles from the county festival. They sat in Spencer's idling car in front of the ranch home. A single porch light illuminated the otherwise dark driveway.

Quinn twisted at the waist to regard the other woman. "This was really nice, Spencer. Thank you for pushing me around."

"Thank you for inviting me," Spencer countered. "I didn't realize how much I missed doing things like this."

Quinn's eyes trained on the tops of her legs. "And thanks…thanks for being my friend."

Spencer swallowed down a lump that appeared in her throat. "It can't be easy trying to transition to a new school. Do you miss Lima?"

"Sometimes," Quinn admitted, with a bob of her head. The moonlight cast peculiar shadows and shapes on her face. Twin hazel eyes blinked back at her from beneath heavy eyelashes. "But Rosewood isn't turning out to be so bad."

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_**Sunday**_

"What did you get for Number 6?"

Spencer tore her eyes away from thoughtful hazel eyes and inspected the equation scrawled across her notebook page.

"Um, this." She pushed the notebook in front of Quinn where she sat on her bed.

Quinn's head bent as she compared and contrasted the numbers and letters on her page to the answer she had come up with. She raised her head and smiled. "Me, too."

_It's kind of nice having a smart friend._

Spencer grimaced when she realized she'd spoken aloud.

Quinn's lips pursed. "Smart friend? Nobody else you know is smart?"

"They're _smart_," Spencer amended. "I mean, like Aria knows everything about poetry and literature, and Emily is pretty good in school too, and Hanna, well…" She trailed off and considered her words. "Hanna's more interested in nail polish. But it's kind of fun hanging out with someone who actually _likes_ school as much as I do."

The ramble was rewarded with a soft smile from Quinn. "I get that. My friends at McKinley were all smart, I suppose, in their own ways, but they were more interested in climbing the social pyramid than getting good grades. Cheerleading was kind of like the center of the universe."

"Cheerleading?" Spencer repeated with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah," Quinn chuckled. "It's amazing to think about now, but I used to be popular. Head cheerleader. Straight A student. Dating the captain of the football team. Even being on my high school's show choir group couldn't topple me from my pedestal. But then…" Her face took on a faraway look. "…the people I thought were my friends, or at least people who admired me or feared me enough, all turned."

"What happened? Was it because of the accident?" Spencer immediately angered at the thought that Quinn's disability would have made people change the way they felt about her.

"No. I…" Quinn sucked in a deep breath. "I got pregnant."

Spencer's eyes widened. This girl really _had_ been through a lot.

The blonde continued, unbidden. "I could have had an abortion, but I wasn't that brave. So I gave her up for adoption instead."

"Sounds to me like you did the truly brave thing." Spencer hated her voice. It sounded too loud in her head.

"Thanks." Quinn offered a watery smile. "Do you believe in karma?"

"Like the belief that bad people get what they deserve in the end, and people who are kind and good are rewarded?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah."

Spencer hesitated. It should have been such a simple answer, but it was heavily weighted with her own past sins. If Karma existed, she was due some major payback – the Jenna Thing, kissing her sister's boyfriends, the multitude of lies that had piled up because of A. "I guess so."

"I wasn't a very nice person in high school," Quinn said carefully. "I said cruel things, and I authorized more than one slushy to the face. If I was bullying people, no one could see how insecure I was."

"Slushy?"

"I'd rather not go there if you don't mind." Quinn shook her head. "Sometimes I think that all of that bad stuff had to happen to me – giving Beth up, the car accident," she listed off, "for me to become a good person again."

Spencer reflected on her own life. Did Alison dying and the problems surrounding A have to happen for her to become a good person? She closed her eyes before the emotions could leak out.

When she opened her eyes again, the mattress was rhythmically moving and Quinn was pounding at the side of her thigh.

"Are you okay?" Spencer immediately felt bad for asking. She knew nothing about the daily challenges being paraplegic provided and it showed in the naivety of her constant questioning_._

"Yeah, I just, sometimes I get these phantom pains in my legs, especially after physical therapy."

"Will you ever be able to walk again?"

Quinn pushed out a deep breath. "The odds aren't in my favor."

"Not even with physical therapy? Or is there some kind of surgery you could have?"

"I'm broken, Spencer. And that's okay," Quinn said, patiently smiling. "It's not your job to fix me."

"I…okay."

Spencer reached for a stack of note cards, determined to continue studying. Her hand accidentally brushed against Quinn's pale leg. Her hand jerked back just an inch or so from the unintentional contact, but it might as well have been a mile.

"It's okay." Quinn let out a shaky breath. "You can touch them."

Spencer's fingers retracted into a loose fist before extending again. "I'm sorry. I've never known anyone in a wheelchair before."

Quinn flashed her a rueful smile. "I won't hold that against you."

The pads of her middle and pointer finger touched first. Quinn was solid and warm. She didn't know what she'd expected. She thought it would feel different somehow. Quinn couldn't feel her touch; shouldn't Spencer be able to tell?

It seemed such a waste. They were lovely legs underneath her skirt, long and lean and capable looking. There were no telltale marks, no scars, or any other kind of signal that they were useless.

She heard Quinn's sharp intake of air.

"Did you feel that?" Spencer gasped.

Quinn shook her head. "No. It was just the visual." She looked a little embarrassed. "No one's touched my legs since the accident. No one besides doctors, at least, and my aunt when she helps me around the house."

Spencer bit down on her lip. She left Quinn's legs, but only for a moment. She had never seen such intensity in a person's eyes before. She wondered if her own mirrored the heat of Quinn's gaze. She reached out, nearly as tentatively as she'd done with Quinn's legs, and brushed a few long strands of hair away from Quinn's forehead. She gently tucked the defiant hair behind one ear.

Her fingertips grazed down the outer shell of Quinn's ear and across a perfectly shaped lobe. Her hand continued on that path and traced a line down a defined jaw line, stopping only when she reached her chin. The backs of her fingers touched Quinn's bottom lip, butterfly soft pressure, and Spencer felt her pulse quicken when Quinn's eyes snapped shut. She thought Quinn's breathing had become subtly heavier, but she couldn't be sure over the beating of her own heart pounding in her ears.

With Quinn's eyes still shut, Spencer leaned forward and closer until their mouths barely touched. She could feel the heat of Quinn's breath against her own lips.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't want to erase the final breath between them. She shouldn't want to feel the soft warmth of Quinn's knee beneath her hand.

She was too long in thinking. Lips, softer and more pliable than she could have ever imagined, were now pressed against hers. Hands, strong and determined, were at the lapel of her blazer and tugging her closer. Spencer had no choice but to close her eyes and give in to the feeling of a confident mouth.

Quinn pulled back and Spencer felt acutely the loss of pressure and mounting desire. But she was gasping, breathless and thankful for the self-regulating break, as she would have refused to reward her with the same. She was certain her own body would deprive itself of oxygen rather than cut short a kiss from the striking blonde.

"Maybe we should stop."

"I'm sorry," Spencer recoiled. "Was it bad? I've never kissed a girl before and I just assumed you're supposed to kiss boys and girls the same. And I've never had complaints from guys before, but maybe I have no idea what I'm doing and they were just being polite to save my feelings."

Spencer was about to launch into another apologetic soliloquy, but her words died on her lips with another kiss from Quinn.

The second kiss left Spencer more breathless than before.

"I…I only suggested we should stop because it's getting late," Quinn explained when she finally pulled away. "We have school tomorrow." She laid her hands flat on her lap. "Besides, I'm not the kind of girl who puts out so easily."

"Oh, I wasn't trying to – No, no, I would never, um," Spencer was rarely rendered speechless, but she found it difficult to form a complete sentence.

She fiddled with Quinn's fingers, their hands now conjoined on Quinn's lap. The fingernails were manicured, but short, skin soft unlike the calloused touch of her carpenter boyfriend. She couldn't get over how well they seemed to _fit _together.

"Have you ever had feelings for a girl?" Quinn's words were so quiet, Spencer wasn't sure she'd heard her right.

"Feelings?" Spencer asked, looking up from their hands.

"Feelings that are usually reserved for boys?"

Spencer mentally jerked at the unexpected question. "I…I have a boyfriend." She knew that wasn't answering the question. "What about you?"

Quinn licked her pink lips. "Once."

"Emily's gay, too," Spencer blurted out, not really knowing why.

The two sat on Quinn's twin bed, side by side, thighs just touching. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," Spencer announced into the room. She couldn't look at the other girl's face.

"Because you have a boyfriend," Quinn said slowly.

"That." Spencer agreed lowly. "And other things."

"Like what? You don't think your friends or your family would approve?"

"No – nothing like that. Everyone was more than cool when Emily came out."

"Then what?"

"I just…it's not a good idea."

"You don't have to lie to me to save my feelings. I might be in a wheelchair," Quinn said stiffly, "but I'm not some porcelain doll who's going to break."

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From me." Spencer's hands went to her face. "You don't know anything about me, Quinn.

Spencer swung her legs so she was perched on the edge of the mattress. She felt like a sprinter in the ready position, just waiting to hear the gun. She wanted to escape, but she needed Quinn to understand.

"There's things you don't know about my past."

"Then why don't you tell me?" Quinn gently pressed. "I told you everything about me. The accident." Her breath caught in her throat. "Beth."

"I-I just can't. You _can't _know."

Quinn's lips pressed tight together. "Good night, Spencer."

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Final chapter! **

I only intended this to be a 5-chapter story when I first started this little plot bunny. But once I dug in, I realized I could probably go on indefinitely. Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews, and for giving this unorthodox crossover a chance :)

If you like my writing, please do check out my original novels, which can be found on Amazon under my penname, Eliza Lentzski. I have a brand-new novel coming out next week - _Drained: _a paranormal romance - which will be a really fun read. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook for other updates on original works and fanfiction. Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_**Monday**_

Spencer placed her laptop on top of the toilet tank. She pulled up a playlist, a mix of soul and blues. Throaty, female-fronted vocals with bold brass sections reminded her of an earlier time – a simpler time. She wished she owned a record player, because this was the kind of music meant to be played on vinyl.

She wiped away the fog that had already accumulated on her bathroom mirror. She stared at her reflection. She didn't _look_ gay. She shook her head. That was ridiculous. Emily and Maya and Paige were all proof that even pretty girls could be gay.

But she had a boyfriend; that had to mean something, right? Again, she thought back to Emily and her last boyfriend. It took her a moment to recall his name – _Ben_ – yes, that was his name. They'd been on the swim team together.

She tested the water once again before stepping into the steam shower. She tilted her head back and let the warm spray wash over her naked form. She thought about her boyfriend. She loved Toby. He was beautiful – smooth, chiseled, like a statue of a Greek god. It was a kind of ethereal beauty, both masculine and feminine at the same time. She had intended on spending the weekend with her boyfriend, but she'd discovered that being with Quinn had been a welcomed reprieve from the all the Lies and A. She didn't have to worry about keeping her story straight with Quinn – the blonde girl knew nothing about her or her past.

She thought about Quinn. She thought about her perfect mouth and perfect teeth and the perfect way she formed her words. Her hair always looked a little wind-blown as if someone followed her around with a fan, or if she'd just stepped off the beach, soft, almost tangled waves tumbling down the front of her shoulders. It made Spencer want to wrap her fingers around the strands. It was hair that begged to be touched and played with.

Spencer leaned her palm against the cool tile of the shower to steady herself. Her free hand snaked down to her shaved sex. She was swollen, warm, and ready. Her fingers fluttered over her clit, causing her knees to shake.

Her fingertips trailed over her outer lips, collecting her arousal. One finger, then two, slid into her wet hole. She spread her legs wider apart to accommodate the intrusion. Her left foot slid sideways, but it caught against the side of the shower stall.

She pressed the tip of her middle finger against her sensitive nub and moved in tiny, slow circles. Water beat down from the rain shower showerhead and her brunette locks clung to the sides of her face. She felt the telltale tightening in her abdomen and in her clenching sex. She pushed harder and faster, pulling and pushing her two fingers in and out of her. Small sighs and grunts tumbled from her lips.

Spencer leaned her head forward until her forehead pressed against cold tile. She knew she wanted to kiss Quinn again, but she wasn't sure what that meant. She felt Quinn's lips at her tight nipples. She felt silk soft hair brushing down her stomach and tickling against the heated flesh of her sex. Her hips thrust forward and her fingers bottomed out. Her knuckles mashed against her throbbing clit.

Her eyes closed. Her generous lips parted in a silent prayer.

As soon as her climax hit, she felt ashamed. She had masturbated to orgasm thinking about not just someone who wasn't her significant other, but a girl whom she barely knew. They'd spent one evening together and now she was coming undone by her own fingers with thoughts of Quinn's mouth in the forefront of her mind.

Spencer turned the shower hotter and stepped into the spray, hoping the scalding heat would absolve her of her sins.

* * *

Spencer fidgeted on the lab chair in first period. She opened her notebook and tried to relax, writing the date in a careful scrawl. The lab chair beside her screeched against the floor and hopeful eyes jumped off the college-ruled page.

"Hey, Spencer. Mind if I sit here?" Andrew's handsome, earnest smile trained on her.

The pen twirling between anxious fingers nearly snapped in half. "I do actually."

She watched a kaleidoscope of emotions pass over the boy's face - good humor then confusion, followed by a stoic mask of indifference. "Oh. Ok."

Spencer frowned and glared back down at the blank notebook page. Where was she? She glanced at her phone, noting the time. The bell would ring in a few minutes.

Not thinking, she typed out a quick text to the missing girl.

_Where are you?_ She pressed send before she could second-guess her curiosity and begin drafting multiple versions of the same, probing text.

Too many scenarios, each more dire than the last flashed through her thoughts. Maybe she had another physical therapy session today and had to miss class. Maybe she was too angry or embarrassed by what had transpired that she was taking a personal day. Maybe she had changed her class schedule so she wouldn't have to see Spencer again.

She stared at her phone screen, willing it to text her back. She felt horrible for how she'd left things the previous night with the other girl, but she didn't know how to get close to someone without destroying their life.

The bell rang to signal the start of the school day and the space beside her remained empty.

She bent her head closer to her notebook page as the teacher began his lecture and she did her best to concentrate on his voice instead of the fresh memory of slightly parted lips and corn silk blonde hair.

* * *

Spencer dumped her tray on the lunch table. Emily and Aria looked up from their own lunches.

"Hey, Spence," Emily greeted. Her dark eyes regarded her friend. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine," Spencer curtly supplied. She twisted off the cap of her bottled water. "Aria, was Quinn in class today?"

Aria's features scrunched in confusion momentarily before recognition settled there. Spencer realized that Quinn's name might not be on the tip of Aria's tongue as it was her own. "Nope. Why?"

Spencer bought time and took a swig from her water bottle. "I borrowed a notebook from her," she said as impassively and noncommittally as possible. "Just wanted to give it back."

Aria shook her head. "Oh. No. I haven't seen her since Thursday."

"She seems nice," Emily chimed in, picking at her sandwich. "I wonder if she'll ever be able to walk again. I can't imagine being stuck in a wheelchair all my life."

Spencer opened her mouth but then snapped her jaw shut. She knew the answer, but she only knew that Quinn was chair-bound for the rest of her foreseeable future because she'd spent the entire weekend with the girl. She wasn't ready to reveal that yet to her friends, however, until she figured out these emotions Quinn had dug up within her.

Spencer's phone buzzed. Aria and Emily's eyes attention reflexively went to their own phones, which had thankfully remained silent. Spencer's gaze slid to her cell's display.

A message from an unknown recipient had been sent to her email.

"What is it?" Aria worried.

"I don't know." Spencer opened the email – the subject line was blank and the message itself was empty, save an attached photo. She couldn't make out the colorful thumbnail and squinted at the low resolution.

"Is it from A?" Emily worried.

Spencer enlarged the image. She sucked in a sharp breath when she recognized the colorfully painted pumpkin. "Yeah," she breathed. "It is."

Her phone blipped again with an incoming text message from a blocked number: _You should stop clowning around, Spencer._

Emily stared at the picture and text message. "Clowning around?" she read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea," Spencer shakily insisted. "Just another cryptic message from A."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Aria said darkly.

Spencer shoved her phone into her bag and out of sight, but not out of mind. _How had A gotten that pumpkin?_ she silently wondered. It had been in the backseat of her car along with Quinn's spider-web pumpkin. She had forgotten about them over the weekend until now.

Hanna flopped down at the table and her tray clattered noisily on the metal lunch table. "What's up?"

"Spencer just got a message from A," Emily supplied.

"But we don't know what it means," Aria added.

"Awesome." Hanna looked completely over the A situation. "Hey, did you guys hear about that new girl?"

"What new girl?" Aria asked.

"You know." Hanna moved both of her hands back and forth at her sides. She looked like she was splashing in an invisible bathtub.

Emily wrinkled her nose. "You mean Quinn?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Hanna confirmed.

Spencer's stomach dropped. _Oh no. It happened already. _"What happened?" Her voice sounded strangled.

Hanna opened her soda can with a loud crack. "She had to move again."

"_What?" _Spencer gasped.

The blonde took a quick slug from her Diet Coke. "Yeah. I overheard my mom talking about it on the phone this morning. Something about Quinn's aunt not wanting her in the house anymore, or that Rosewood was a bad influence on her or something. I don't know."

"But she was only here for a few days," Emily noted, concern clouding her face.

"Did she leave already?" Spencer pressed. "Do you know where she went?" She knew she looked overeager about this information, but she didn't care if she spiked her friends' curiousity.

Hanna shrugged. "That's all I heard."

"I'll be right back." Spencer abruptly jumped up from the lunch table.

"Is everything okay, Spence?" Aria asked. "You seem a little jumpy today."

"More than usual," Emily added with a sympathetic smile.

Her friends appraised her with curious eyes, but she didn't care to explain herself to them. "I have to go to the bathroom."

* * *

Spencer turned on both of the bathroom faucets and let the water rush down the sinks. The sound of the bursting water filled her ears. She stared at herself for a few moments in the long vanity mirror.

The tears that pricked the corners of her eyes were a surprise and she struggled to suppress the sudden sense of sorrow and despair that had wallowed up her throat, choking her like a goiter.

She pulled out her phone and opened the text message conversation she'd last had with Quinn. She hadn't even had time to save the girl's contact information in her phone, she reflected with morose. Her thumb hovered over the information.

Finally, with reluctance, she deleted the messages and Quinn's number from her phone.

Spencer looked back at her reflection with new determination. Quinn would go to Yale. Spencer would be lucky if she ever got out of high school, let alone college.

It was for the best, she decided. Quinn had dealt with enough in her young life. She didn't need to get herself entangled in the cyclone that Spencer herself could not escape.

She splashed her face with cold water to dull the redness and swollenness of her eyes. She ripped a piece of paper towel from the machine and dried her face.

* * *

FIN


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